


Glove

by rosamynal



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Lover, Calloused Caresses, Do you like work roughened hands?, Drabble, Glove Kink, Glove porn, Gloves, Hand & Finger Kink, Mouth Kink, POV Second Person, Sinful Ratman, Teasing, Then this is the man for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosamynal/pseuds/rosamynal
Summary: One could very well say the gloves have come off.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Glove

Emet-Selch slowly, gingerly, _ meaningfully _ draws his hand to his mouth. The tip of his white-gloved index finger enters his mouth only for the tip to be gently gripped by his teeth. A soft tug loosens the fabric around the digit. The next finger. Another light tug at the fabric between his teeth. A third finger. A third tug. So on until he rounds back to the thumb and nips the tip of the glove there.

Without breaking eye contact, he flips his hand over, his own teeth grazing the skin on his wrist as he grips the hem of the glove between his front teeth and slips the silk off his hand. He tucks it carefully in the palm of his now bare hand before focusing on his still-gloved left. His tongue gets involved now, carefully sticking out to provide guidance to each finger over his lips and resting on the bottom row of teeth. The process repeats itself, excruciatingly slow for each digit: tongue, finger, teeth, _tug_.

Emet-Selch carefully brings his middle finger back to his mouth. His teeth grip the loosened tip of the glove and teasingly pull it off his hand. Lips painted the color of deep wine curl into a smirk as they close around the silken fabric. He bends forward, carefully draping it on your exposed stomach like an offering. His other hand tosses the first glove over his shoulder.

Lithe fingers dance like feathers over your stomach, each touch sending shivers through you as they trace around the glove. His right hand wanders far south enough to _tease_ and send a flutter through you. His damnable lips part in a breathy chuckle when he notices your reaction.

The hand presses flat against your abdomen before he drags it across your bared skin until the elegant fingers curl around your side. The sensation of the rough calluses on his hand crossing your torso makes your breath catch. Pale gold eyes narrow at the reaction and he repeats the motion with his left hand. You visibly shudder under his touch. His lips curl in appreciation.

His hands glide up your torso, calluses rubbing against every ilm of you. They turn inwards at your chest. Fingers lift off only to hover just above your nipples. The index and middle fingers catch a nipple between them while his thumb strokes the skin just below.

You arch into him, eager for more contact. His smirk opens enough to bare his teeth in a mischievous grin as tendrils of his aether push you back into the mattress.

Emet-Selch lowers his head. It inclines enough that his two-toned hair falls forward to tickle your sensitive skin. His tongue darts out, tasting you as he leaves a wet trail up your chest. His elegant hands continue their motions, graceful fingers pinching and stroking as the wont takes him.

The teasing fingers grow still when his tongue reaches your collarbone. It passes over the extruding bone once before his painted lips press against you. He begins sucking and nipping and _licking_ his way up your neck. His teasing nips intensify until they leave his mark on you while one of his hands migrates back south and its partner resumes attending to your nipple.

The feel of his calloused hand against the skin of your inner thigh sends a jolt up your spine. His hand roughly cups you at the same time he darts upward to greedily swallow your gasp. A sound akin to a satisfied purr rumbles within him. He breaks contact and lifts his head so you can see a predatory smirk. Eyes like molten gold glimmer in the lamplight.

“Shall I make you _sing_, hero?”


End file.
